


Not (Re)Quite What it Seems

by agentz123



Series: Who is Donald Duck? [21]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures
Genre: Angst, Blood, Broken Relationships and Bonds, Coping Strategies, Daisy Duck Needs a Hug, Daisy Duck is About to Snap, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Donald Duck is Paperinik, Donald Duck is the Duck Avenger, F/M, Familial Strain, Gen, Heroism is Dirty Work, Hurt! Donald, Implied Violence, Married Couple, Men amirite, No Worries My Friends, Past Relationships, Pillow Fights, Post-Canon, Set (Briefly?) Into the Future, The Spear of Selene, Trauma, Trust, Using the American Title for a Little More Juice, ahaha, just in case, not domestic, trigger warning, unhealthy coping strategies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: Donald and Daisy have a fight.
Relationships: Donald Duck & Daisy Duck, Donald Duck & Della Duck, Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Donald Duck & Lyla Lay, Donald Duck & Uno | One (Disney: PKNA), Donald Duck/Daisy Duck, Donald Duck/Lyla Lay
Series: Who is Donald Duck? [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890283
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	Not (Re)Quite What it Seems

**Author's Note:**

> requite (v.): to make appropriate return for (as if to _avenge_ or _reciprocate_ ); to respond to [love and/or affection]

Daisy Duck opened her eyes slowly and greeted the sun rays creeping into their bedroom. She slid out of bed and quietly shuffled over to the window, unclipping the pane and allowing the fresh air and morning chirps to flow in. She ducked under the open window and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of oncoming rain. 

Daisy turned back and gave a fond smile to her slumbering husband, noting how precious he looked with dribble smeared all over his beak. That was the thing with them, he drooled and she snored. (Im)Perfectly balanced, as all things should be. 

She had dreamed of a new dress and wanted to rush to the craft room before the design slipped away. She quietly pulled the door open and screamed as she tumbled to the plush carpet. “DONALD! How many rassafrassing times do I have to tell you to stop leaving your rassafrassing boots in front of the rassafrassing door!” Daisy picked herself up and ran back over to the peaceful figure of her husband. She yanked the pillow from underneath his head and slapped him with it, causing him a quack in drowsy surprise. Normally she loved that sound, but right now she had half a mind to murder him. “You—“ she shouted, beating him with the cushion with each word, “don’t—even—wear—socks! The only pair of shoes you own, and you HAVE to leave them in front of the door?!”

Donald snatched the pillow back and groaned, absolutely exhausted. He knew he was one hundred percent in the wrong, but last night was yet another rough one and he was cranky. “If I always leave them there, how come you’re not accustomed to them yet?” 

“It’s too early to get smart, mister. The first thing going through my mind when I wake up is not about your stupid shoes! I shouldn’t have to worry about face planting every morning. I bet there’s an impression of my beak right in the doorway.”

And just like every morning, Donald dragged himself out of bed and threw the yellow boots into the closet. And just like every morning, he gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek, and went to meet her in the kitchen so they could prepare breakfast together.

But unlike every morning, Daisy Duck was pissed. She would usually just be able to brush it off, he genuinely forgot, this would be the last time. But as she plunked herself down onto their shared mattress and tried to burn a hole through those ugly boots with her eyes, she felt as if she was being ignored, that Donald didn’t really care. What if she ever...god forbid...SERIOUSLY hurt herself tripping over them? What a total disregard of her feelings and safety! 

Would she have to live like this for the rest of her life?

* * *

Donald took a few deep breaths before cracking open the living room's front window. He was lucky for his wife and her intense snoring, but she surely would hear the key in the front door at an odd time of night. Careful of his abdomen, he slid into his home. He clenched tighter in an attempt to mute his rattling sobs of pain. 

He missed Uno. He missed how the AI would be there with him in every battle, keeping an eye on his blind side. Sometimes he’d even crack an annoying joke, or tease him about his old crush on his ex-partner. With a shaky sigh, his thoughts drifted off to Lyla. Don’t get him wrong, he was a hundred percent dedicated to Daisy, but Lay was a damn good friend. 

He regretted pushing everyone away after the Spear incident. He remembered how he believed that he could make it on his own, that he didn’t have to rely on anyone, that he should never trust anyone ever again, but really that’s when he needed his friends and family the most. 

And now they’re gone. 

He was too...he was too _different_ to be the Avenger again. He had no idea why he took up the cape once more. Was he bored? Feeling useless? Restless? The boys were older, more independent, more...Della's. Or perhaps, just maybe, he was putting everyone he knew in harm’s way to try to reconnect with the past he desperately tried to forget? 

Great, now his chest hurt too. This was stupid. He just needed to clean up and some rest in order to clear his head. The caped duck began limping towards the bathroom, his wing wrapped around his burning abdomen, but paused in the middle of his unbearable journey to kick off his boots. He didn’t want to wake Daisy, did he? Plus, there was a chance that blood (whose, he wouldn’t be able to say) would be on them, and he didn’t want to track. 

Daisy flicked off the light in the arts and crafts room and staggered down the dark hall. After rubbing her bleary eyes, she caught a glimpse of the outline of those stupid boots. Has he been getting up in the middle of the night and placing them there, JUST to spite her? _Oooh, he is in so much trouble…!_

There was the sound of a door closing (she kept forgetting to fix the bathroom’s squeaky hinges) and she immediately perked up, excited to catch him in the act and subsequently wring his neck.

Upon turning the knob, she found a tattered blue cloth. She frowned, not recognizing the...blanket? but paused her studies when she heard the ear-splitting retching. With the rest of her body frozen in fear, her eyes anxiously crept up to find a somewhat familiar man in a ripped up body suit, doubled over her sink and puking blood. 

And, oddly enough, without any boots. 

“D-d-duh...?”

Trembling, the duck turned around, and the sickly gore trailing his beak reminded Daisy of this morning, of the way Donald’s spit glistened around his lips as he slept.


End file.
